A truck in Syria (Photo by Emily O'Dell)
Tonight, I’m reading the poem of Rumi below, since I’m unable to be stoic and silent with my pain. I had forgotten the firm grip of grief, until I found out that three of the children with whom I worked at St. Jude’s died last week. I wasn’t prepared for that unexpected emotional blow. When I told my retired professor about their deaths, she said, “I think I am never going to complain again about having a birthday–think of how happy these kids would have been to have had another birthday.” Grieving their tragic deaths, and contemplating their short and precious lives, makes it even more difficult for me to see all of the bloodshed happening next door in Syria, and around the world…
St. Jude's in Beirut...
Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.
Just a little beginning-whimper
and she’s there…
Cry out! Don’t be stoic and silent with your pain.
Lament! And let the milk of loving flow into you.
— Rumi
